


Petrichor

by aurrie



Series: all the galaxy's a stage [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Jedi Consular, Felix is so lovestruck it's great, Infodumping, Like. Yeet, Nonbinary Jedi Consular, Other, Pre-Relationship, creation myths, sometimes you just gotta throw canon out yknow?, these two give me fuckin cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25474378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurrie/pseuds/aurrie
Summary: Sometimes, getting caught to the rain is a good thing.
Relationships: Felix Iresso/Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor
Series: all the galaxy's a stage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787530
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Petrichor

It's a wet day in this part of Belsavis. The snowfall that fell into the geothermal pockets of the planet turned to rain again here, falling in sheets instead of a snowstorm. With all the ancient tech they kept finding the deeper into the vaults they got, it was pretty easy to believe that this place had been a giant prison for millennia. They're miles from any of the bases out in the deep forests of the prison, so they've taken shelter under the long arches of the root system, and it's doing a good job of keeping the both of them dry.

Right now though, it's pretty much torrential out. Felusia sometimes got this bad when he and Milo got caught in downpours, and the large plumes of flora and the toothy megafauna made him almost nostalgic for the posting. That was a long time ago - feels almost like a lifetime now. Things were simpler, then.

Maybe… maybe he should tell Master Andraa about the incident soon. Not fair to keep them in the dark about it. But right now, they both have their hands full tracking down where to find Hallow Voice and the rest of the Esh-Kha that followed him, on top of Geland trying his level best to sabotage their efforts. Not really a great time to drop a bombshell on them. He squints up at the cloud cover, a stormy dark grey where the clouds swallowing up the sky hang low and heavy, which confirms his suspicions.

"Looks like it's not letting up anytime soon," Felix says. “We’re kind of stuck here, unless you want to trek in the rain.”

"It's a good time to take a rest anyway. Camp out here for a bit?"

"Sure thing." Felix pulls out a generic bar to eat from his pack. They both haven't eaten in a while and they've got the time to take a breather now. "Ration bar?"

"Thanks." They take it gratefully from him and begin to tear the foil wrapper. And then they make a face when they nibble on a corner. "Not the best tasting."

"Yeah, it's more for the energy than the flavour." Felix rubs the back of his neck.

"Once you've lived on them long enough you stop caring. Well, uh, most of the time.

"Oh, I can certainly see that. Reminds me of the rootleaf stew they used to serve on Tython." They grimace. "Very pungent. I wouldn't recommend it; it'll give you terrible indigestion. But lots of fibre. Perhaps that was the point." 

They straighten up, making a stellar impression of a stuffy Jedi with an over-the-top authoritative voice to match. "'There is no sense of taste; there are bowel movements.' Eventually," they add.

He chuckles at the almost blasphemous use of the Code. It's probably okay to laugh at that, if it's them doing it.

They're sort of funny like that. Much more approachable than most Jedi he's met or been stationed with. Don't get him wrong, the few he'd met were never outright rude, but most of them seemed pretty much untouchable, made him feel sort of… small and insignificant with how cold they were. And of course, he'd heard some horror stories about holier-than-thou Jedi having friction with the squads they were with over the years, from the older gruffer vets that had seen the end of the Great Galactic War, to the rookies and up-and-comers. He'd had none of those issues with them. 

He's curious about the Jedi experience, all he'd heard was gossip from civvies and some of the tall tales of the soldiers he’d been stationed with. "Speaking from experience or….?" 

"Oh, no," and they wave dismissively. "I was too picky an eater. I just ate pittas that we were given with it instead."

"So… how come you didn't get caught?"

"I switched my portion for someone else's empty bowl while they weren't looking. I think I got caught… once. But only once. Master Syo let me off."

Felix laughs. "You're not as law-abiding as everyone likes to believe you are, Master Jedi."

"I've been told that a few times now by my Masters while I was a Padawan. Not since I was knighted though." They smile. "You're fairly gutsy to speak your mind like that to a Jedi Master."

"Oh, I only mouth off when I think I can get away with it."

"So, you think I'm lenient?" they tease back.

"Maybe." He grins lopsidedly and the way they beam back at him and giggle makes his stomach do flips. He feels almost like a kid again, his weariness slipping away like rainwater off a leaf. "You're not much like any other Jedi I've ever met."

"I could say the same, Lieutenant."

They both watch the shower and eat in companionable silence after that, listening to the distant calls of the varactyls and the ginx down by the pond a little ways off soaking up the pattering rainfall, croaking appreciatively in a low warbling chorus. This place could have its pretty moments in between the animals, the prison security system and the Imps trying their best to kill them. And boy, had they tried.

He knew they were a big deal when he was briefed by the Rift Alliance, one Master Silanu Andraa, Barsen'thor (the title is a little tricky to pronounce admittedly; he bet they’d be able to tell him what it meant.) even in the Order, but meeting them in person, just being in their presence he felt… comforted. Something about them in the room chased away the biting cold that had settled in his bones, and even Kree seemed a little less jumpy. And when they went off in search of Valon and the thermal bore device, the feeling stayed.

They didn't seem to mind when the rest of the crew neglected to use their title at all either; Zenith and Cedrax just used a curt  _ Jedi  _ to get their attention, and Qyzen, maybe the strangest Master Andraa kept in their company, just called them  _ Herald.  _ Of  _ what, _ he wasn't sure yet, he just hadn't got round to asking.

"You know," they say, and Felix glances back at them. "I've always liked the rain. Especially in the summertime. Something about the smell of the earth and the grass after it's come and gone, and the coolness it brings. It's very soothing."

They  _ are _ right. There is something about it that Felix can't help but agree with. The humidity is a lot more bearable now, the sticky feeling that had clung to his skin and his under-armor beginning to bother him a little less.

"There's a word for that in Basic, right?"

They nod. "In quite a few other languages too, from cultures from planets where they have rain. Some of them even have creation myths around them, like the Selkath, and the Cerean, even the Tusken of Tatooine."

"You mean the Sand People?" Felix wasn't aware they had much of a documentable culture, with them being so insular. "They have a history?"

"That's what they call themselves. Well, the Basic version of their word. And yes, like most sapient species, they do as well."

"Ohh." He felt a little sheepish.  _ Way to put your foot in your mouth, Iresso _ . But, had to admit he was learning a lot he didn't know he was missing out on. "So, how'd you learn about the creation story? I'm a little curious about it now you've piqued my interest."

"Well… one of the Masters I had to shield on Tatooine, Master Eriz, he'd been studying and living amongst them, learning about their customs and their history. I had to track him down first, and there was a place he used to meditate in, a holy site for them that depicted their history. They're actually descended from the same species the Jawas are, the Kumumgah, and their language has some etymological similarities too, so there has been some success communicating with a pidgin dialect." They've realised something, because they're fumbling on their datapad all of a sudden. "Where is it… Ah. Here, see, I have pictures saved of the murals."

They shuffle a little closer next to him so he can see better, showing him at first photos of cave walls in torchlight darkened with dark red, almost black ash, and white chalk dots almost randomly drawn on, but when he studies it closer, they seem more deliberate.

"This is from the middle of the Ghorfa period, of the night sky, but the logogram notation down here," and they point to them, "tells us it's of an older sky seen from the same place. The way the constellations are positioned  _ here," _ and they tap the screen "in comparison to the modern ones visible from the hemisphere the cave is located in, if we can assume they were accurate, and accounting for slight planetary position shifts from the flux in the gravitational pull caused by the twin suns it orbits affecting its rotation and tilt… we can estimate this dates back even earlier than the Rakata Empire, back to the time of the Kumumgah." 

Then they point to the single figure with a pair of luminous amber glass inlaid into sockets, something like eyes. "See here? This is a deity of theirs."

"Huh. Do they have a name?"

"When Master Eriz asked them, they said something that loosely translated to  _ Shining One.”  _ they explained. “They're the focus of the story, actually. There's been other Ghorfa era sites and relics where they appear that have been discovered as well. And regretfully, often by violent means, desecrating their holy places in the name of profit selling them to the highest bidder,” and they wrinkle their nose distastefully. “But I digress. They corroborate with some of the tablets discovered there, from back when they still had written text before they changed to entirely oral history, which makes sense, given they’re a nomadic people.”

“The story goes that they were the first being to come into existence, but they grew lonely, waiting for the souls of the planets to be born. So, after their long search through the galaxy, they came across Tatooine. Their breath cooled the young planet to make the atmosphere, and then they took their tears and wove it into a shawl to dress them, and that became the sea.”

Then they scroll down a little, showing him a different scene, where they’re lying in what looks like water.

"But eventually their body grew tired and weary, so they plucked their eyes out to stay in the sky, to watch for them, the twin suns. Then the Shining One laid themselves down in the ocean. They slept so long, that they became the continent, and from there, the jungles grew from their body.”

"Jungles? On Tatooine?"

"Mhmm. They covered almost the whole planet. Our strongest hypothesis of why it became a desert planet, is that the Rakata bombed the planet after they gained attention for becoming spacefaring, and the fused glass eventually became sand, but of course we can’t rule out desertification by accelerated development of the Kumumgah. And, granted the Tusken’s distrust of outsider technology and their reverence of the land, there’s reason to believe that it was stories of their predecessors’ fall from grace that became cautionary tales.”

Felix whistles low. "I can't imagine a time that far back where they still had trees and oceans. Felt like it'd always been a dusty sandball."

They shrug. "In a galaxy this vast and chaotic, the past and future will always seem strange. Everything that we know and are familiar with will continue to change, and eventually it will be completely foreign to us. The old gives rise to the new. It's simply the way of things."

"Wow," Felix says in awe. He's pretty out of his depth when it comes to philosophical stuff, but it sure is fascinating listening to them talk. "That's pretty profound. And little daunting. Isn’t it, I don’t know, kind of scary that things change like that? That nothing we really know is ever fixed?"

"I find it kind of comforting, personally. Change isn't necessarily a bad thing. We all return to the Force in time, and through it, we are brought back in new forms. Just like stars in supernova eventually making new planets.” Pause. “On a much longer timeline, of course.”

“Of course.”

“The galaxy will often change faster than us. But our kindness, our compassion, our faith, will always be remembered by someone, not always in the annals of history, but by the people we have helped and touched in our lifetimes. Our deeds live on in memory. Even if --" and there's something almost sorrowful in their voice when they hesitate. "Even if the rest of ourselves may be forgotten."

"There will be dictators and conquerors and their empires, but… like everything and everyone else… they fall. They try so hard to immortalise their power into something lasting, into monuments and obelisks as a testament to their power with their tyranny, that their obsession makes them short-sighted and they disappear into obscurity.” They chuckle. “It’s almost paradoxical. They gesture at the ruined entrances of some of the Rakatan vaults in the distance. "Here's proof. Time has a way of humbling everyone.”

Pause. “But… it doesn’t mean that what we do with our time in this form is meaningless, if anything, it just gives it more purpose. You’re never going to be this person again, and no one else ever will either; you’re unique. Even in a galaxy filled with trillions, there’s no one quite like you that will shine the same way.”

"Oh." He hadn't seen it like that. “That’s a really interesting take.”

“It's funny," they muse, "people across the galaxy, no matter how distant their home planets are from each other, across time have found something mystifying about something as simple as precipitation."

"Like… a commonality?"

"Yes, exactly," and they’re almost beaming now. He could listen to them talk for hours, because there’s something about their enthusiasm that’s so infectious, even if they were talking about the finer points of Alderaanian spoon placement etiquette (which he’s pretty much certain they know about given their encyclopaedic knowledge, about well… everything so far) he’d still be absolutely enraptured.

"People are… well, just that. People. No matter where they came from. There's something wonderful about the shared sense of awe over the same thing, by different people that have never met, and maybe never will. But even separated by time and space, they've all experienced the joy of that and that in itself, is is a phenomenon all on its own. The Force binds all of us, all the living beings in the galaxy, and so does sorrow, and despair, or anger, but also wonder and joy and… _ hope. _

“At… least, that's how it seems to me,” they say, almost nervously. "Does… does that sort of make sense? I've been told a few times when I verbalise my train of thought it's a bit hard to follow."

"Oh no, no, I follow you," he reassures. There's something really endearing about that small confession. "When you put it like that, makes perfect sense."

He’s not sure they heard him, because they’re distracted by the rain beginning to subside into something slightly less violent. He doesn’t mind.

They pull their gloves off, revealing golden yellow hands with simple black diamond patterns on their palms, mirroring the ones on their cheeks. Their palms are callused too, he notices as they turn their hands skywards reaching out to touch the droplets. He knows they’re no stranger to combat from the way they fight with their dualsaber, moving so fluidly it’s almost hypnotic, like a dance.

There was something from the beginning. Something about them that seemed magnetic, but maybe that wasn't the right word. He felt drawn to them in a way he can't quite put his finger on it. Maybe a little dizzying, like getting lost in the deep azure of an open sky, something like vertigo. But that wasn't right either. When they were near, he felt…warmth; a steadiness, a hand on his shoulder, a gentle touch to his cheek, a slow inhale and exhale to call the nerves. 

All Jedi seemed wiser than their years to him, and to Felix, Master Andraa is even more so. He might’ve overheard something about them from the diplomats about being a prodigy, even by Jedi standards, and the youngest Master in their Order by a long shot, and he finds both easy to believe - they’re exceptional in every sense of the word. 

They seemed so worldly, so mature, so untouchable seeming, that when they faltered, just a fraction of a second, he saw the weariness about them that was only reserved for the old soldiers, he might've been forgiven for forgetting that they were only a few years into their twenties. And just as quickly as it surfaced, it vanished again.

He watches them stand up and step out from under the cover of the bough, and within seconds their robes are already dappled with droplets. When they pull their hood back to reveal soft loose black curls, there’s a look of quiet awe on their face, and when Felix looks closely, he spots some greying hairs. 

He wonders what it would be like to see the galaxy through their eyes. When he looks at them, he can see the path they’ve taken through it, what they’ve done. And… it weighed on them, too. They must be holding the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders. 

Everyone still had limits, he guessed; even them. Maybe they were coming to the end of theirs. He wants to help.

And he wants to know more. 

Not the Jedi Master. Not the Barsen’thor. 

_ Silanu. _

But he knows that he can’t. Everyone knew the Jedi didn’t fraternize.

Silanu closes their eyes and tilt their head up to the sky he can see the slow smile spreading across their lips. There's rain-droplets caught in their hair like pinpricks of light in the night-sky, and they look almost otherworldly, like a holo-star, sparkling and shimmering with the light refracting through them and casting small rainbows into the afternoon. And  _ stars, _ he thinks,  _ they're so beautiful.  _ Was it wrong to think that about a Jedi? And the Barsen'thor themself? Probably. But he just wants to stay in this moment a little longer. Just a little while more.

They turn to look back at him, and their eyes meet with his, and he panics, worried they’ve caught him watching. They’re a bright, piercing blue that makes him feel  _ seen _ in a way he's never felt before; like they're looking straight into his soul. But there’s nothing accusatory in their gaze. Just... looking. He swears that rain almost stills around the two of them, a moment in time suspended in the air and hanging like stars and tiny gemstones. It makes Felix nearly breathless.

It feels like eternity before they break eye contact. He looks away hastily and clearing his throat. It’s ended.

"Should we get going?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sure thing."

He finds himself replaying the image for the next hour.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oh my god this took so fuckin long to write researching stuff. I also yeeted out a lot of canon framing the Sand People savages and such bc that's just. Idiotic and racist.
> 
> Also yes, I may have projected just a little onto Sil with the philosophy thing. If canon Jedi philosophy is modelled off of (really warped and grossly misinterpreted) Buddhism then I can take that and run with it so it makes sense to me. It's free real estate. B)


End file.
